


Sins of Salem

by FireMothWrites



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-19 07:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22440787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireMothWrites/pseuds/FireMothWrites
Summary: In a small town in the outskirts of Unova... a commotion has occurred.Witches, Witches! The Arceus-loving crowds chant.The witches must be judged for their heresy, and sentenced to death in the name of Arceus himself.Little did they know... that their foolish persecutions would lead to a mysterious and yet dreadful 'accident', and the creation of the very thing they sought to destroy.
Kudos: 2





	Sins of Salem

I still remember their faces, you know?

The rage, the foolishness, the disgusting look on their rugged and pitiful features.

A part of me still seethes with fury whenever I think back to that day… but more frighteningly so, another part relishes on my actions. They deserved it, for what they did, for what they said, for what they forced me to become.

And of course… I still remember their voices, our moments together, the smiles and laughs we shared. Even if the outside world despised us… I loved them. My loving, caring family.

“ _Father, father look! Look what I did!”_

A drawing, three smiling humans hugging each other as a gorgeous pillar of soothing shadows watched over us. I can still see the outlines… fading from my memory… fading into nothingness.

“ _I’d say my dear, you have a future as an artist.”_

_“Can you imagine that? Our little girl, a big time artist… conquering Unova trough her art!”_

His embrace, the warmth of his body as he held me, the smiles and laughs that escaped us as he lifted me and spun me around before holding me against his chest. I can still see them, feel them… in my dreams, in my accursed memories of which I hold so little now.

It was just so beautiful, so perfect, and so brittle and fragile.

_“What do you mean the priest is coming for us!? I’ve made sure not a single trace was left behind! They can’t find out now, not when we’re so close!”_

I can still see the tears falling down my mother’s cheek as she fell to the floor. I can remember my father’s hitting wall, his frustrated cries, his fear and worry.

I approached my crying mother. I comforted her. And my father comforted us both. It was nice. It was precious. It is painful.

The banging, the shouts, the sound of firearms threatening our little happy family. I remember the tears in my eyes, tears I held in to be strong for mother, for father. I knew we would get out of this and enjoy some nice bread and porridge once it was all over.

_“There they are!”_

_“Capture these heretics in the name of our lord Arceus!”_

_“Down with the worshipers of Distortion!”_

The flames that surrounded us, the smoke that filled my tightening lungs. It’s all still fresh in my memory. I can still see the sight of our humble little home crashing down to pieces on the horizon, under the moon’s careful watch, swallowed whole by the inferno those bastards brought upon us with their torches.

_“Dorothy, sweetheart… listen to me. Do you remember those books you love reading? Do you remember how fun it was to pretend we were the characters in them?”_

I remember, father… the legends of King Arthur of Galar, his noble knights, and his enchantress half sister. You lulled me to sleep with their epic adventures, I dreamt with each and every single one of them.

And I remember the gifts you gave me that terrible night, mother’s hat, your book, both of our family’s most beloved possessions… I remember you opening the book with tears falling down your eyes, pointing at the verse I should read outloud were I ever in trouble. And that if I was ever told that what we did was wrong… I should remember the truth about that legendary witch from Arthur’s legends, and her loyalty discarded by history.

_“M-Mother, Father! Why aren’t you following me? P-Please, they’re almost here! What… what are you doing!?”_

I didn’t see it happen. But I heard it… I _felt_ it. And I kept running. I kept crying. I kept falling and getting back up again even though I knew they were gone. I despised them all… those damned puritans, thinking they know the words of the legendaries, thinking they’re more than what they really are. And because they failed to see and understand… they hunted us, they judged us and sent us to hang in worthless trials with but one possible conclusion.

_“There she is! Grab the child!”_

_“We must execute her at once! Giratina’s rage courses through their blood, I tell you!”_

_“Quick, pull her down from that tree and bring her to the priest!”_

I should have been scared. I should have screamed for help. I should have taken my fate with a broken heart and no hope left… but my parents’ love made my heart beat with fury and vengeance, their hard work fueling my determination, their words resounding in my tormented head, mother’s voice still as clear as it was back then.

_“The world will forever try and find ways to make your life worse. Tragedy will strike, and grief will fill your heart. But if you let that grief consume you… you will never grow stronger. And you need to grow stronger to show the world who’s really in charge, to make those who deserve it suffer before they bring you suffering instead. And if you heart is truly pure and your reasons rightful? Then both Arceus and Giratina will be by your side.”_

It almost felt like second nature, opening the book to the page my father had signaled. It felt so natural, the power coursing through my body as I descended to face those bastards. It felt comforting, soothing, warm… like my parents’ hug.

With the hat over my head.

And the book in my hands.

I began to speak…

**_“Munda peccatorum eorum malum... Da nobis caritatis et iustitiae! Benedicat nos cum potentia ad rectam eorum erroribus!_ **

**_Giratina, vitam meam offero tibi. Fiat tua, et sapientiae dux est mihi ad iustitiam.”_ **

Pain filled my being. But it wasn’t a bad pain… it was a pleasant storm, like a soothing sting that caressed my body as it was slowly discarded into nothingness, my soul breaking free of its limiting vessel.

I couldn’t help but smile… a wicked, crooked smile that curved my lips as they let out a calm, collected… yet vengeful and proud giggle.

Their voices clamored to Arceus for the sake of their lives… but I knew their prayers were pointless, for their sins were too grave for He to forgive.

The ground around the bastards cracked wide open as pillars of darkness shot into the sky, freeing the distorted souls trapped in the realm beyond to keep them from running away from their divine punishment. But they were just the beginning, a warning of what dared to come next...

Circles of pure black, devoid of light, of life, distorted both time and space alike… joined into one underneath their feet. Two red eyes, beautiful like rubies yet as dangerous as death itself glowed from within the abyss… sending powerful waves of energy that knocked them all to their feet.

And the last thing I heard… were their screams as claws of red dragged each and every one of them into the engulfing darkness until not a single strand of their hair was left.

News would spread throughout Unova the very next day. Claims of a family of witches that had died in a freak accident, taking ten percent of a puritan town’s population with them.

They were not wrong.

Dorothy had died that day… and I was born, my ghostly body full of power that I could not wait to master.

I had heard Giratina’s pleas, and had accepted the new chance they had given me. And so I took on a brand new name to reflect who I now am… the name of a Witch who had done everything in her power to help he who she loved and cared for.

Only for history to brand her a whore, and a heretic.

But not this time, no.

Dorothy Good had perished alongside that pitiful mob.

And Morgan, the Mismagius Witch of Unova, was born.

* * *

“Aaaaand… ya’re tellin’ us this story for what reason exactly?”

Three oran berries. Bits of Slowpoke tail. A Honchcrow’s feather. And some maractus ale. Add some petals of a freshly evolved Roserade and… voila~ A perfect potion, like always.

“To refresh your memory of what I can do to you if you dare mess with my newest student, of course. He will most likely never even get close to you but… it does not hurt to be careful.” Morgan smiled as she let the water boil, letting the excess chemicals evaporate until it took one vibrant, uniform purple color, “Now be a dear and make yourself useful Salem.”

She opened up her book, using the Spiritomb’s stone as a good support to keep it upstraight. She nodded and hovered back, muttering some ancient chants under her breath.

“Oh trust me ya bastard, we _definitely_ remember what ye did to us. Nah much else tha think about when yer trapped in a fuckin’ basement for over three hundred years!”

“Yes yes, shush. I need to finish this for when the cutie gets here… can’t have him take unnecessary risks while learning after all.” She mused, chanting a few more words as her spectral energy engulfed the liquid’s surface… before dissipating and leaving a far more vibrant liquid on top, “Just… if he ever does come down here, keep your lovely trap in check, okay?”

“No fuckin promises ya bitch!”

“That’s a good spirit.” She chuckled, shooting an incredibly tiny Shadow Ball at their face that made them recoil in pain. “This… is my first shot at getting a family again. I will not let you, or anyone else ruin it, got it?”

“Just… finish ya damn potion dammit!” He really, really wished he had enough power to actually hover around the place now. Stupid witch curses…

“Oh I love it when you get furious dear~” Now then… time to spread her father’s teaching to a brand new generation. Oh she was so looking forward to it~


End file.
